


Price of Admission

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Exhibitionism, First Time, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared’s first thought upon meeting the one and only Jensen Ackles is <i>This is going to blow up in our faces.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Price of Admission

**Author's Note:**

> And now, my final Blindfold fill. Because anything that gets Jared, Jensen and Misha naked together on the internet is a goal worth dedicating one's self to. For the prompt: Misha & Jared are together and hard up for cash, so they decide to get a roommate. Jensen is the perfect fit, but they quickly realize he's one of the most popular men on a strip for pay website. Together they watch his channel each night, and finally work up the courage to ask him to join them.

Jared’s first thought upon meeting the one and only Jensen Ackles is _This is going to blow up in our faces_. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. His first thought is a series of cartoon wolf-whistle and a-ooo-ga noises. And then the blowing up in their faces thought. He can’t help how his brain works, he’s tried, it just does what it wants anyway.   
  
Regardless, the point stands; Jensen Ackles is trouble personified for Jared and Misha and it’s obvious right off the bat.   
  
The problem isn’t that he’s a bad roommate – true, Jared had sort of thought he was beyond the roommate phase of his life when he moved in with his boyfriend like a grown-up person, but the economy is the economy and _Avenue Q_ wasn’t bullshitting about that ‘useless degree’ thing. No, worse, Jensen’s a great roommate. He does the dishes and the laundry when it’s his turn, doesn’t hog the hot water in the shower, keeps his minimal mess confined to his room. He’s respectful of Jared and Misha’s relationship and lets them have their date nights, never busts into their bedroom unannounced. In fact, if it weren’t for that one little thing, he’d be better than Jared’s best case scenario hopes when they posted ads for a roommate.   
  
That one little thing being the fact that he is ludicrously, inhumanly attractive both in body and personality and how incredibly difficult it is not to notice that while freaking living with him.   
  
Jared’s actually pretty messed up about it. He’s not a cheater, never has been, never would. And he would never, ever cheat on Misha, both because he’s the sunshine of Jared’s world and because if there’s anyone who he could see laboring over elaborate, life-crushing revenge plans, it would be Misha. Jared loves him, but sometimes the guy scares the hell out of him.   
  
Like, for example, the night Misha walks into the bedroom, all tiny-sexy in pair of Jared’s pajama pants and an old UT shirt that hangs on him like it’s actively trying to fall off, sits down on the bed and says,   
  
“So you want to have sex with Jensen.”   
  
Scares. The. Hell.   
  
“I, no! What? No!” is not the most convincing splutter, as far as splutters go, but it’s the best Jared can come up with since his head is still caught halfway between ripping those PJs off of Misha and running away in shamed terror.   
  
Misha just stares at him. Jared hates it when he does that. There’s just no way to combat it.   
  
“I would never, ever, _ever_ do that to you, baby. I don’t even, it’s not…”  
  
“You would never ever ever cheat on me with Jensen? Or you would never ever ever want to sleep with him if I was suggesting we share him like a slice of decadent chocolate cake?”   
  
On the plus side, sometimes Jared gets to stare too. Although his is usually mutely waiting for his brain to reboot instead of that ‘plumbing the depths of your soul’ bit that Misha does.   
  
Misha sighs and brings his legs up onto the bed to sit in that funky cross-legged yoga pose that doesn’t look hard at all but Jared almost broke an ankle trying to pull off that one time. “I lost you at chocolate cake, didn’t I?”   
  
“Pretty sure you lost me before that.” If he also happens to now have a craving for baked goods, it’s entirely beside the point. Misha obviously knows him way too well.   
  
“Jared,” Misha crosses his arms over his chest too, which is just entirely too much pretzel action going on at once. It’s also the advance signal that Misha’s already won this argument and Jared just hasn’t admitted it yet. “I need you to stop being so heteronormative about this and answer the question. Would you want to have sex with Jensen?”   
  
There’s no way this isn’t a trick question. If he says no then he’s lying – and Misha is the world’s best lie detector, fuck those fancy little machines – and lying about it might be even worse that just saying yes, but saying yes is saying _yes, I’d like to have sex with our roommate_ which doesn’t really seem like the best plan in the history of relationships either. On the other hand, it is Misha asking, and Misha can be an odd little dude, definitely doesn’t ascribe to traditional sexual values. And he had totally said something about sharing Jensen. And cake.   
  
Now Jared’s imagining Jensen covered in frosting. This really isn’t helping.   
  
“Yes,” he mumbles like Misha’s not going to hear him or something. “If it wasn’t… or we weren’t… but I wouldn’t-“   
  
Luckily, Misha learned the ‘shut Jared up with kisses’ trick a long time ago. Jared is very grateful for it. Also for how perfectly Misha fits into his lap and the way his tongue curls around Jared’s inside of his mouth.   
  
He lets out one of those pleased, ‘this is just getting started’ hums when he breaks the kiss, darts back in again for a couple more quick teasing pecks at Jared’s lips. And then rolls off of him to the other side of the bed leaving a sudden shock of cold, empty air in his wake. Because why should anything tonight make sense?   
  
Misha’s already got his laptop on by the time that Jared manages to pull out of the stall that the unanticipated halt in action threw him into and Jared’s stomach drops. So, wait, did he screw up? He thought he had, but then there was the cake sharing talk and the kissing and he thought he hadn’t but now he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.   
  
He plans to ask, just as soon as he figures out whether he should be snippy about being left hanging or contrite for admitting he’s attracted to another man, but before he works out the details, Misha is scooting in close to his side again, tilting the screen so Jared can see what’s put the manic grin on his face.   
  
The answer being Jensen, shirtless, kneeling on a bed, one finger dipping below the waistband of his jeans. The jeans with the big hole in the thigh; his lounging around jeans. Which Jared knows because Jensen was wearing them all afternoon. The same way he knows the color of that wall behind Jensen – Marlboro Blue – because Jared painted it back when Jensen’s room was going to be a study and the bed Jensen’s on because Jared helped him move it in.   
  
On the screen, Jensen thumbs over the button at his fly, teases around it with a fingertip – Jared would swear he can feel the phantom touch of it on his skin – then slowly pops it free. To the side of the video a chat box starts going crazy with suggestions and pleas.   
  
“What the…” That was going to be a whole sentence, Jared’s sure, but then Jensen shoots him this sultry smirk through the computer and laughs, low and hot, and he sort of forgets where he was going with that.   
  
As he always does, though, Misha gets it. “Strip for pay. He’s very popular.”   
  
Torturously slow, Jensen licks his lips, rolls his hips fluidly. Jared wonders if he’d be able to hear music from down the hall if he strained.   
  
“I’ll bet he is.”   
  
Jared doesn’t mean for that to come out quite as husky as it does, but then again, Misha has to take part of the blame for it since his hand is snaking underneath Jared’s shirt to scratch light, hot trails down his abs with blunt nails.   
  
“He, um,” it’s a struggle to swallow back a groan when he gets hit with the one-two punch of Jensen peeling open his fly to reveal a pair of navy briefs – Jared’s going to pop wood every time they show up in the laundry now, he just knows it – and Misha tugging the waistband of Jared’s boxers down below the swell of his balls to stroke him all the way hard in the open air. “H-he told you about this?”   
  
Not letting up in his rhythm for a second, Misha shrugs, leaning in to do nothing more than breathe, sweltering hot, along Jared’s collarbone. “Essentially.”   
  
Somehow Jared kind of doubts that it was as simple as that, but Misha has a talent for getting people to spill their deepest, darkest secrets without even realizing it – it’s how Jared ended up admitting he’d never bottomed before and found himself bent over Misha’s coffee table moaning his head off in the middle of their second date – and this time Jared really can’t find a fault with that.   
  
On the laptop, Jensen stands, takes a second to palm at the bulge Jared can almost-just-barely see hidden below the folds of denim, then turns around and starts inching his jeans down over the curve of his ass. Misha’s breath shudders against his throat, the stiff line of his cock pressing up against Jared’s hip though his borrowed pajama pants. The flat of his hand drags over the head of Jared’s dick, sliding through precome until it’s all smeared into the folds of his palm and the skin catches dry on Jared’s slit, making him whine at the flash of sugar-sweet overstimulation.   
  
“So,” Misha murmurs, teeth catching at Jared’s earlobe as he milks Jared closer to the edge, “about that cake.”   
  
***  
  
If he doesn’t stop pacing, Jared knows he’s going to wear a hole in the carpet. Then they’d have to get it replaced which would suck because that kind of thing is really expensive and they’re already tight on cash which is how they ended up in this whole mess in the first place. Maybe they could just put a rug over it.   
  
See this? This is why Jared should not be in charge of things, particularly the awkward sexually propositioning the roommate things. Because Jared blows at it.   
  
Misha would have been all suave and Jedi mind-trick about it, probably would have had Jensen naked on the kitchen floor thinking the entire thing was his idea in five minutes flat. Jared would kill to have those kind of skills rather than the ‘babble incoherently until the point just comes spilling out’ ones that he got stuck with. It’s sort of a miracle he’s ever been laid in the first place.   
  
At fourteen to 10 he at long last hears the front door signaling Misha’s return, the sound of the locks turning loud in the otherwise silent apartment. He can only assume Jensen’s been hiding out in his own room since Jared’s monumental failure at subtlety in asking him to have a threesome as he hasn’t heard the TV. A couple of hours ago he did pick up the hum of the microwave going so at least Jensen must have eaten. Jared had just resorted to the secret stash of Snickers he keeps at the back of his t-shirt drawer. He’s excellent at mature problem solving.   
  
Another five long minutes and one Level 3 panic attack later, Misha fucking finally joins him.   
  
The first words out of his boyfriend’s mouth are, “It couldn’t possibly have been that bad,” and Jared loves him a little more that he doesn’t actually have to rehash the whole sordid tale.   
  
“It was me,” Jared points out, “Of course it could have been that bad.”   
  
Draping his jacket across the back of the desk chair on the way, Misha crosses the room, tugs Jared down into a soft, warm kiss. Like a hot bath, he sinks into it, his arms wrapped around Misha’s hips to pull him in closer. He almost wants to be mad at how easy it is for Misha to dial down his freak out meter.   
  
“He didn’t seem upset when he called.” Misha licks the words into Jared’s lips, chases them across his palate when his mouth goes slack with shock.   
  
Jared’s “He called you?” comes out a slurry mess because of it, but Misha’s had a lot of practice at deciphering Jared with his mouth full. All he answers with is an, “Mmm-hmm,” pushing up onto his toes to turn things a bit more forceful. Sure as hell not making it any easier to keep up with what they’re talking about.   
  
Just as Jared’s deciding that a discussion of his potential destruction of their living arrangement can wait – somehow or other he’s managed to get backed up against the dresser, knobs pressing in warningly at his sides and Misha boxing him in at the front, one leg hiked up on Jared’s hip so they can grind together – the universe decides he’s had it way too easy for one day.   
  
A rough, “Jesus Christ,” hits him like a taser zap, a framed picture of his sister and a whole bowl of change flying off of the top of the dresser as he jolts backward. There’s going to be a perfect drawer-pull shaped bruise on his spine tomorrow.   
  
Jensen’s standing in the gap of the doorway, one hand still on the knob, the other braced on the frame. Maybe he knocked and they didn’t hear or maybe he just let himself in but either way, he obviously wasn’t prepared for what he walked in on; cheeks bright pink, rapidly blinking eyes wide, mouth hanging open just as dumbly as Jared can feel his own doing. He’s wearing dark jeans, well-fitted but not tight, and a charcoal grey tee that fits the same description, nice but not fancy, the kind of thing that Jared automatically categorizes as ‘casual date’ wear before he tells himself to shut up.   
  
“You are all kinds of smooth, my love,” Misha laughs into Jared’s neck. Jared doesn’t even feel bad about the yelp Misha makes when he pinches the ass cheek he’s still got a handful of in retaliation.   
  
“I, uh,” Jensen seems to lose track of whatever he was about to say, gaze dripping molasses-slow down the picture they must make together, Misha turning around in the circle of Jared’s arms, his own arcing up and back to tangle in Jared’s hair. Jensen clears his throat aggressively and skins a hand back through his hair as if it’s going to do anything but ruffle for a second before falling back into place. “Listen, about earlier.”   
  
“I am so sorry. That was totally out of line,” Jared jumps in immediately. He earns a hard tug on his hair from Misha for the trouble and a hard grind of pert little ass against Jared’s still half-hard cock. One day he’s going to get Misha a mood ring just so he has some shot at knowing what the fuck is going on in that man’s head.   
  
Jensen pulls his hand off of the doorknob and scrubs it off on his hip instead. “Mish said that you were serious. That you were both… amenable to the idea.”   
  
Considering that they’ve been fucking each other stupid for a week straight to Jensen’s strip shows, ‘amenable’ doesn’t seem like a strong enough word. Still, Jared nods. As long as his mouth doesn’t get involved, he’s usually ok at not screwing himself over.   
  
“You’re under no obligation, Jensen. It won’t change anything if you don’t want to,” Misha says gently, which seems a lot too much like screwing them over to Jared but makes Jensen let out this breathless little laugh.   
  
“That-“ Jensen huffs again, runs his hands over his stomach through his shirt, way too much of a reminder of all the teasing he does that the beginning of his ‘act’ or whatever the hell it is. “Really not the issue.”   
  
He wanders a few steps closer, enough that when Misha holds out a hand to him, it wouldn’t be any trouble to take it. Jared’s not sure how long he’s been holding his breath now.   
  
Jensen looks like he wants to reach out and let himself be pulled in but he stops short, hesitating just a second before he says, “It’s just, I’ve been thinking and, the way I figure it, if we were to… you know, I’d be doing you sort of a favor, right?” It’s probably never going to stop being stunning to Jared how cool and confident Jensen can be taking his clothes off for strangers on the internet when in person, even after living with them for weeks, he can still be so shy. “And it seems like, in the spirit of fairness and all, if I was doing you a favor, then it only seems right that y’all would do one for me too.”   
  
Jared can feel the weight of two sets of eyes as they turn toward him. How he became the broker of this affair is beyond him but the want simmering in Misha’s expression is enough to know that he’s speaking for both of them when he offers up, “What do you want?”   
  
Now, he hasn’t had nearly as much opportunity to memorize Jensen’s facial expressions as he has Misha’s but Jared’s got a feeling that the smirk gradually turning up the corner of Jensen’s mouth is going to mean exactly the kind of trouble he knew Jensen would be right from the get go.   
  
***  
  
The heat of Jensen’s hand is searing, like Jared’s skin ought to be blistering as it traces a path up his abdomen, broad palm and strong fingers dragging his shirt up to expose a wide swath of his abs to Misha’s mouth. His boyfriend is on his knees in front of him, angled to the side enough that the camera in the corner has a clear shot of his tongue painting the curve of Jared’s navel wet. Jared bites down hard on a groan at the image – real life and on the laptop screen Jensen’s got set up for them to make sure they’re still in frame – as much as the feeling, fingers fisting reflexively at his sides.   
  
The comment box on the side of the webpage is going insane.   
  
Jared’s not ashamed of his body. He looks good, he knows it, works hard to stay that way. But it’s one thing to like how he looks in a swimsuit and it’s another to be slowly stripped naked live online. The main difference being that putting on a bathing suit doesn’t generally get him so hard he feels like he’s shaking. Apparently he has a kink. Who knew?   
  
Breath ghosts over the shell of his ear when Jensen purrs, “You know what it’s like living with you two?” probably too low for the little mic on the camera to pick up. Probably. Jared shivers just thinking about it even though he’s somewhere on the opposite side of the universe from cold. “Thinking about you, turning off the fucking heater so it’s quiet enough I can hear you, wondering what you’re doing that’s making him make all those noises.”   
  
His other arm loops around Jared’s waist, taking over the management of Jared’s shirt so he’s free to pluck teasingly at a nipple. _Teasing_ , the whole fucking thing is a tease, Jensen’s hands and Misha’s mouth, trailing down to mark wet kisses along the band of his pants. This would all be easier to handle if they would fucking do something, give him a little friction, get down to fucking business already, but that would screw up the show – that’s not how pay-by-the-minute works.   
  
“You watched me didn’t you?” Jensen asks it like he’s hoping for the ‘yes’ Jared gives up easy as a two-dollar whore. “More than once?”   
  
He’s not getting nearly enough air for his, “What do you think?” to come out as snarky as he meant, more like begging than anything.   
  
His hand has found its way into Misha’s hair, small comfort in the soft strands playing between his knuckles, tugging against his hold when he tries to direct Misha one way and his boyfriend goes another. It helps to keep him grounded since everything else is feeling so surreal. They’re guest starring on their roommate’s strip site in prelude to a threesome. In what world could that possibly be reality, let alone Jared’s – average, uninteresting Jared’s – reality? But there’s solid evidence of Jensen’s enthusiasm rubbing against his ass through too many layers of fabric and those are Misha’s hands framing the swollen shape of Jared’s cock in his jeans as though it wasn’t obvious enough already and that’s Jensen’s voice in his ear whispering, “Honestly? I think you’re wasted as a file clerk.”   
  
At the same moment that Jensen pushes Jared’s arms up to pull his shirt off, Misha scrapes his teeth over the aching bulge of Jared’s hard-on. No choice in the matter at all, Jared squirms between them as a thrill fizzes along his nerves, head arcing back onto Jensen’s shoulder.   
  
“You’re having way too much fun,” he shoots accusingly at Misha. His boyfriend just grins up at him and downshifts to press his face into the V of Jared’s legs, the denim constricting his balls heating to the point of tingling with long puffs of breath. “Karma’s going to bite you in the ass.”   
  
The rough vibration of Misha’s laugh rattles into Jared’s spine. “I should hope so. You know how I like it when you bite.”   
  
Jensen’s grip clenches against Jared’s skin, hard dots of pressure a counterpoint to the maddeningly soft licks Misha’s drawing up the seam of Jared’s crotch.   
  
“Shit,” he growls into Jared’s hair, “Should have known he’d be a talker, huh?”   
  
Then it’s Jared’s turn to laugh because that is fucking hilarious after the porn script Jensen was just spitting a minute ago. “He’s not even warmed up yet.”   
  
He’s sure his grin must be a little loopy when he turns his head to look Jensen in the eye, what with the big hands flattening over his stomach, dragging up to his throat to wrap around it for just a second before slipping away again, warm, damp grate of teeth as they latch onto his pants button, tug until it comes open. Then again, Jensen’s not looking much better off. His attention keeps flashing back and forth between Jared’s face and Misha dragging Jared’s zipper open, his hands gliding down to help shove the denim off of Jared’s hips.   
  
A sudden buck from Jensen has him humping forward against Misha’s cheek but instead of looking startles, Misha just goes with it; nuzzles at Jared’s cock, licks a hot stripe over the head through the thin fabric of his boxers. Not even trying to control himself, Jared does it again, loving the give when Misha lets his mouth go soft against the thick, fabric-sheathed push and the jittery rush when the backward roll of his hips slides Jensen’s dick against his ass.   
  
They groan in unison, turning the motion into a grind. Jensen’s hand is so close to Jared’s cock his mouth is watering for the little bit of contact but Jensen’s still not quite making the leap, scratching at the wiry hair around the base through cotton, a maddening suggestion of what could be. It’s Misha – of course it is – who gets them there, molding Jensen’s hand under his own over Jared’s shaft.   
  
His bare chest brushes Jared’s all the way up as he stands, soft and hot and electric like a whispered secret. He angles himself again, riding Jared’s hip like a stripper pole and forcing his attention back to the camera, the way they look together, the dozens, maybe hundreds, of people watching them, getting off on it. If they don’t get this show on the road soon Jared’s going to leak through his underwear.   
  
Misha’s lips are slick and velvety, demanding when he takes Jared’s mouth. He eats at it, licking all the way to the back without even giving Jared a chance to catch his breath before he’s kneading at Jared’s cock with Jensen’s hand. Over Jared’s shoulder, Jensen groans wantonly, grips at him hard as he humps Jared’s ass, draws his mouth along the curve of his neck.   
  
“Kiss him,” Misha says, barely enough room between their lips to keep Jared from breathing the words right down. He couldn’t guess which one of them Misha is talking to and it doesn’t matter anyway because as soon as he turns to look at Jensen they’re crashing together, more eager than finessed.   
  
The angle’s all wrong, amping up the tongues and teeth situation until it can barely be called a kiss and Jared still feels like he could go off like a teenager from it any second. Jensen’s rubbing against him from behind, Misha from the front, the both of them fucking up Jared’s headspace with the steady, not-enough pressure of their hands like it’s their true purpose in life to make Jared insane. Right now he’s not so sure it isn’t.   
  
“Get naked, get naked, _getnaked_ ,”creaks out of his throat like shatterglass.   
  
Bound and determined to help, his hands fumble, fuck-stupid, at the catch on Misha’s pants, sure he hears a seam pop before he finally gets them undone and shoved down. It’s really never going to get old that Misha doesn’t believe in underwear.   
  
His boyfriend’s laughing again, breathy and adrenaline high, tickling at Jared’s ear when he leans in to kiss away the sweat gathered at Jared’s temple. He’s going to melt between them, blow like a geyser and Misha just looks like somebody told him that Christmas is tomorrow and he’s getting everything on his list.   
  
“Can’t deny our viewing public a good, long look at this, can we?” He grins like a dare, giving Jared one more rough squeeze through Jensen’s hand before he starts peeling the elastic band away from Jared’s skin.   
  
Jensen gets with the program fast enough to help out but it still all feels like slow motion to Jared, pulse smoldering right under the skin, constricting his chest, making his fingers twitch. For a moment he’s actually dizzy with it, this churning heat in his gut that he can only call fear even though, if anything, it’s making him harder. And then it’s done, his cock popping back against his belly with an audible smack, exposed for all the world to see.   
  
This time Jensen doesn’t hesitate to put his hands on it.   
  
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Misha’s voice is sandpaper rough but still loud enough that the microphone _has_ to be catching it and Jared knows it’s intentional. There’s a darkness in his gaze when he hefts Jared’s balls, bumps over Jensen’s knuckles where he’s stroking Jared’s off in a cruelly loose grip. It’s something like pride, like an owner looking over a prize stud and it makes Jared feel a little demeaned and a hell of a lot turned on at the same time. “Long, thick. You can’t imagine how it feels in you, hitting all those spots you didn’t even know needed hitting. By the time he’s balls deep you’ll think that you’re never going to stop feeling it, couldn’t possibly live without it holding you open every second of the day.”   
  
Daintily he steps out of the pants pooled around his ankles, slides both arms around Jared’s neck and pulls in close so they’re mouth to mouth, dick to dick with Jensen’s hand caught in the crossfire. Grinds until Jared’s fingers are digging into the meat of his ass and his own jagged breath shunted back into his face as Misha brishes their lips together.   
  
“And that’s nothing to how it feels wedged down your throat.”   
  
The last syllable gets lost somewhere between their mouths, a fierce battle of tongues as Misha climbs him like a tree, relying entirely on Jared to keep them both vertical.   
  
Dimly over the ring of blood in his ears, he hears Jensen’s strangled, “Fuck me,” nearly swallows Misha’s wicked, “That’s the plan.”   
  
It must be too much for Jared’s brain to handle, or maybe his synapses are just saving up room so they can hold onto every detail of the coming attraction, but he gets lost somewhere between there and the bed in a haze of mouths and skin and bodies pressing against him. It isn’t until he’s flat on his back on the mattress that Jared manages to pick out individual sensations again; the pressure of Misha’s legs as familiar as the back of his own hand where they’re clamped around his hips, rough fingers in his hair, the slick noise of… of…  
  
Jared’s eyes flutter open and immediately latch onto the jigsaw-fit of Misha’s mouth against Jensen’s, their lips raspberry-dark, probably blood hot, wet with each other’s saliva. They should have a halo or something, like a Renaissance painting, if Renaissance paintings featured gay porn. Which, actually…  
  
This is really no time to be thinking about art.   
  
Point is, they look fantastic together, especially throwing in the part where Misha is straddling him, rolling his hips a little as if there’s any chance whatsoever of Jared losing his erection right now. Water buffalo could probably stampede through the room and Jared would still be hard. Also? Jensen’s naked and that is a positive development any way Jared slices it.   
  
By now Jensen’s body is hardly a surprise, Jared’s seen just about every angle of it sprawled all over his computer, but it really doesn’t compare to the live show. He’s got heavy muscles, broad through the shoulders and the chest to a tapered waist, an ass that Jared’s not going to call a bubble-butt anywhere but the privacy of his own head, and these beautiful bowed thighs that are a siren song for obscene thoughts. It’s a perfect match for Misha’s lean, lithe figure; all slim lines and smooth cuts of compact muscle, just enough softness to keep him from being puny. Jared loves it, the best of both worlds practically in his lap.   
  
He really hopes Jensen turned off that camera or else his subscribers are about to get a lot more than they paid for.   
  
Talking is a struggle with his heart jammed up in his throat but he rasps out, “What do you like?” at Jensen anyway.   
  
Jared’s not particularly picky about sex, top or bottom, kinky or vanilla, it all has its virtues. With Misha that’s a good thing because Jared’s boyfriend can be a toppy bastard or a shameless cockslut at any given moment, is just as likely to want it slow and sweet under the covers as to start showing Jared product reviews for sex swings. Based on the night so far, Jared’s guessing Jensen tends to walk on the kinky side of the street but he’s shy enough that even that is a tough call. Top or bottom wouldn’t surprise him either way, though he does dare to hope that ‘both’ is a possibility.   
  
Shock flashes unfettered across Jensen’s face for a second before he reins it in again. He looks at Jared, then Misha and back again contemplatively, licks his swollen lips wet like Jared really needed more incentive to focus on them.   
  
“Could I… Would you let me fuck your mouth?” He says it to Jared but as soon as it’s out, his gaze is darting to Misha, for permission or anticipating rejection Jared isn’t sure. Whichever it is, clearly he’s underestimating Misha.   
  
That hip-swivel thing that’s been empirically proven to make Jared forget the English language does the job as per usual when Misha hauls it out, rubbing his wet cockhead around the ridge of Jared’s as lust plays tag with smugness across his face.   
  
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Do you, honey?” Misha bats his eyelashes, swivels again, really pressing into the dip of it so their dicks scrape against Jared’s stomach.   
  
Jared’s very proud of the couple of consonants he manages to string together in return.   
  
Obviously the ‘fuck yeah, do it’ buried in there comes across because approximately two seconds later he’s got Jensen’s knees on either side of his head, his pretty face upside down as he angles the tip of his cock – fat and angry red – toward Jared’s lips. More than on board with the direction things are heading, Jared tips his head back and opens wide to catch the first salty swipe of precome on his tongue.   
  
Jensen slides in smoothly, deeper than Jared would normally go on the first push but the position has his throat as open as it can get and there’s something tantalizing about not having complete control of it. The smell of sex is thick enough to drown in in the short pulls of air Jared grabs, the silky skin of Jensen’s sac brushing his nose, filthy and painfully hot.   
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” Misha’s words tremble like they went for a ride in a paint mixer, “Looks so good stuffed full, doesn’t he? You should see him getting fucked. That big, strong body writhing on the end of your dick like he’s getting paid for it. Do it harder, he can take it.”   
  
Jensen lets out a broken whine and the slow rhythm of his thrusts turn into sharp jabs that pop past the resistance of Jared’s gag reflex. One of them, Jared’s lost track of which, runs his hands down Jared’s chest, over his arms, his face, his hips. His own are busy enjoying the flex of Jensen’s ass as he works himself in and out of Jared’s mouth, sliding into the crease to feel the hot, damp curl of his hole.   
  
Moaning startlingly loud, Jensen pushes back against Jared’s fingers, all the encouragement he needs to get the tip of one pressing in. Too dry to go any further, Jared just wiggles it, fights off the instinct to panic as his air is cut off over and over by Jensen’s cock with the sweet, helpless noise Jensen makes.   
  
He’s had too much on his plate up until now to really wonder what Misha’s up to, but it becomes instantly apparent when Jared feels his boyfriend’s hand tighten around the base of his shaft, holding him steady as overwhelming tight heat engulfs him. After only a moment to adjust, Misha starts to move, short bounces of his hips picking up speed as he loosens more.   
  
Jared’s making all sort of embarrassing noises around Jensen’s dick now, most of them coming out as hums and slurps and groans as every nerve in his body skips right over lighting up and blows a fucking fuse.   
  
Above him Jensen’s muttering “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” and Jared can’t help but wholeheartedly agree. Misha’s riding him hard and fast and it feels so good, almost too good, and that’s sort of the point – it’s amazing for him, yeah, but it’s the pace Misha likes best, the one that gets him off. Jared’s being used like a sextoy by two of the hottest guys he’s ever met and he’s going to come until his brain dribbles out of his ears.   
  
Either Jensen doesn’t give a warning or Jared’s too busy trying not to shake apart to notice but he suddenly finds himself gasping around empty air, Jensen’s cock pulling free of his lips with a loud pop that only just has time to register before Jared’s neck is being striped with pulses of wet heat. Voice hoarse, Jared moans, arches his head back to give Jensen a better shot for the last couple of spurts.   
  
Misha echoes the sound, a more strained chorus of the same sentiment. His fingers are digging bruises into Jared’s chest while Jensen’s tangle through Jared’s hair, brushing the sweaty clumps away from his face. He can feel some of it sticking in the come cooling on his neck and it’s kind of sick, but that same kind of sick as having his fingers in a guy’s ass or a dick in his mouth – the kind of sick Jared’s been addicted to for years.   
  
Fumbling and uncoordinated, Jensen crawls down the side of Jared’s body to slip up beside Misha. He reaches over and fists Misha’s dick where it’s bobbing unattended with every thrust. Left to his own devices, Misha likes to come on nothing but Jared’s cock, but then again, left to his own devices, Misha likes to ride Jared until he’s sweated through the sheets and is a boneless, swearing mess. Not that that’s anything to complain about, but sometimes he gets tired of being the guy who always blows first. And second. Sometimes third. Misha’s stamina can be completely unfair when he puts his mind to it.   
  
In the name of solidarity, he tosses Jensen a smile and punches his hips up the next time Misha moves down. The effect is instantaneous, Misha’s eyes bugging before they slam shut, rhythm lost in the rush as he fucks down onto Jared’s cock, up into Jensen’s hand. He’s shiny with sweat, flushed and strung tight, every inch of him painted with desperation that’s only spooling the coil of heat in Jared’s gut faster.   
  
“That’s it, baby,” Jared murmurs, low and broken up, every downstroke of Misha’s hips pushing him closer to that edge, “Show him how pretty you come.”   
  
And apparently Misha’s not putting his mind to it tonight because that’s all the prompting he needs, inner muscles clamping down so hard around Jared he forgets to breathe for a second. His face goes slack at the same time that the rest of his body locks up, pearly ropes of come fountaining over Jensen’s fingers and Jared’s stomach.   
  
Jensen’s teeth are sunk into the swell of his lip, glassy eyes locked on the head of Misha’s cock within the ring of his fingers, milking it until Misha whimpers and wriggles in Jared’s lap. He’s still so tight even though he’s gone practically limp, erratic contractions of muscle that are obviously beyond his control sucking at Jared where he’s still swollen and aching, so fucking ready to get off.   
  
A couple of pointed bucks of his hips is all it takes for Misha to get the picture and lay forward against his chest, bracing his hips just enough that Jared can lift up and pound into him properly. Quiet grunts shove out of him with every push of Jared’s hips but he doesn’t even put up a token resistance, just lays there and takes it for the handful of thrusts required for Jared to turn sloppy at the flashbulb pleasure bursting behind his eyelids. He rides out the reverbs of it with his face pressed into Misha’s neck, tasting the salt of his skin.   
  
Jared’s still paddling around the deep end of it when a careful, too-much touch to his sensitive dick jolts him back to awareness. Jensen’s kneeling between the spread of his legs, ruddy and debauched, hair all mauled into spikes and pupils so big he looks stoned. One of his hands rests tentatively light on the inside of Jared’s thigh, the other hovering close enough to where Jared’s slowly slipping free of Misha that he can feel the heat radiating off of his fingers. Cautiously he touches again and it’s still an overload but at least this time Jared is ready for it.   
  
A shiver clatters up the length of his spine as Jensen gently encourages Jared’s softening cock to pull free. On top of him, Misha mirrors it, a fine tremble that flies out of his mouth a hiss. A moan is fast on its heels and then Misha’s pushing back, tiny motions of his hips that make Jared’s heart stutter wondering what Jensen’s doing.   
  
Soft patters of heat decorate his exhausted cock in time with this squelching noise that prints a Technicolor picture in Jared’s head of Jensen’s thick fingers shoved up into Misha’s puffy, used hole, slick up to the wrist with Jared’s come as it works its way free. He is way too old to be thinking about getting hard again this soon.   
  
And that’s when his eye catches on it, a tiny red pinprick of light from the corner of the room.   
  
“Jensen…” Jared’s heart rate had just been beginning to steady and now it’s kicking back into high gear.   
  
Jensen’s grinning when he leans across Misha’s back to press his lips to Jared’s. Against his better judgment, Jared lets himself enjoy the easy heat of Jensen’s tongue winding against his for a minute. If they’ve already broadcast the fucking, one more kiss isn’t much in the grand scheme of things.   
  
“Relax,” Jensen sighs contentedly, hoisting himself over so he’s down on the bed against Jared’s side. “I unplugged it from the computer. Couldn’t miss recording this, though.” The tip of his finger traces the unsteady line where Jared’s skin meets Misha’s making them both twitch, not quite ticklish. “You know, for posterity.”   
  
“Because you think this isn’t going to happen again?” Misha’s voice is slightly slurred, a surefire sign that he just got off hard enough to see stars. The way he’s started kissing over Jared’s chest probably isn’t helping matters, but Misha tends to be tactile after sex, all about the snuggling and skin.   
  
The hesitation of it when Jensen’s hand finds the curve of Misha’s hip is barely perceptible. Not so much the color rising on his cheeks, though, or the self-conscious dip of his head. “Well, a guy can hope, but I wasn’t sure. Thought maybe this was just something y’all do or-“  
  
Having been in the situation plenty of times himself, Jared does Jensen the favor of kissing the rest of whatever he was about to say off of his lips. Evidently he’s picked up the knack from Misha, because it works like a charm.   
  
They all get a little lost in it when Misha wedges himself in as well, the three of them trading off slick passes of tongue and lips with no particular pattern for long enough that Jared starts to feel himself getting endorphin-lazy.   
  
He relaxes back against the bed and just enjoys watching Jensen and Misha make out until the lethargy seems to catch up with them too. Misha’s head nestles itself on Jared’s shoulder, weight shifted around until they can both breathe comfortably enough to grab a short nap before – with any luck – round two. They haven’t technically been invited to stay, but Jensen doesn’t look inclined to argue as he reaches for the tiny camera remote and the little red spot in the corner goes black.   
  
Jared spreads an arm out wide for him in a hopeful invitation that Jensen falls right into, shuffling until all three of them are arranged so they touch as comfortably as they can in their current rather sticky, messy states. Cleaning up would probably be a good idea, but that would require whole worlds of energy Jared hasn’t got right now. Plus he’s kind of at the bottom of the puppy pile. It’s as good an excuse as any.  


End file.
